THE HOLY GRAIL: WAS IT ALL WORTH IT?
by Gnat Girl
Summary: This is a carry on from the film in a story... beware! You have to at least have watched the beginning and end to understand. FINISHED
1. King Amongst Feds

Disclaimer: I didn't create The Holy Grail or Monty Python (I wish… those guys are geniuses.) 

**THE HOLY GRAIL: WAS IT WORTH IT?**

Note: This picks up from the end of the film (in story format) when they are arrested for trying to steal the Holy Grail. It also, if the reviews are nice, may explore the trail too… so Review please. It's a brave attempt.

"I say fellas, there's no need for all this," King Arthur exclaimed as PC Denwood-Jones dragged him out of the police car and into the station.

            "I decide what I need to do, sonny,' PC Denwood-Jones said. He sniffed Arthur's breath. "Smells like you had one too many," he says suspiciously.

            "I say, that's no way to treat a man! What in blazes are you on about?" King Arthur was mystified.  A quest from God, a Holy Grail – surely nothing could go wrong?

            "GIVE ME A SIGN!" The King shouted into the Heavens, whilst the officers gave him some funny looks. Suddenly, the door blew open and many leaves fluttered in in the autumn breeze, spelling out some words of wisdom… a sign from God? As he waited for the words to form, Arthur held his breath… and they read 'You're on your own.' Then some more blew in, saying 'Sod off.' Then the leaves were sucked out again. 

            Meanwhile, Patsy, who apparently was killed some months earlier, breezed into the police station wearing Bermuda shorts and a shirt. He had got, on his shoulder, a tattoo of  two swallows carrying a coconut between them; African or European, it doesn't really matter. He smiled a near-toothless grin at Arthur and sat down on the bench beside him.

            "Patsy! Where have you been?" Arthur cried. Then he saw what he was holding in his hand. "Coconuts! Oh, Patsy…" he nearly wept with sentiment as Patsy handed them over.

            "Took a little holida-a-ay, didn't I Mon?" he said in a Jamaica accent. He suddenly leaned in close to Arthur and whispered in a normal voice, "Disguise, you see? Anyway, I really did go on holiday. Found some swallows as well."

            "African or European?" Arthur enquired curiously.

            "King Arthur – if that is your name – please follow me," PC Denwood-Jones ordered. Patsy hollered (very Jamaican-like) after him, "Solicitor, Mon! I'll get one!" And with that he sauntered out.

Sitting in his cell, Arthur removed his Armour and settled down to sleep. But he couldn't. He kept thinking of all the people he'd miss – Tim the Fire Magician, Patsy… and um… well. Oh yes, the wonderful Knights Of Nih – or the Knights of Ekky Pwatwang Zoom Bom, as they had previously renamed themselves. He laughed, dearly remembering when they had asked him to cut down the mightiest tree in the forest with a herring, and when he had to collect a shrubbery for them. Tears pricked at his eyes. He wanted to find the Grail. His purpose in life was to serve God, and all he had to do was FIND A MEASLY GRAIL. It was like a Math problem that had looked easy but turned out to make you collapse in tears on the floor. In other words, it was impossible.

The next morning, Arthur started a diary in a notebook he carried.

**28th February**

In a cell. Feds locked me up. Patsy is alive! Simply cannot believe it. He gave me some coconuts – v.emotional time. Must form plan – Patsy mentioned a solicitor, whatever that is. Seemed his holiday had really cheered him up. He got tattoo – swallow, have no idea what kind. Must say, never had swallow meat before. Mmm, meat… Missing everyone – Knights Formerly Known As Nih, and Patsy more than ever. My faithful servant. 

            Oh yes. Yesterday God told me to sod off. That's a first.

            OK, then. Plan of action… 


	2. Collecting The Team

Disclaimer: I didn't create The Holy Grail or Monty Python (I wish… those guys are geniuses.) 

**THE HOLY GRAIL: WAS IT WORTH IT? PART 2**

Note: Thank you to my only reviewer, dear loyal Audrey Miercoles. If the rest of you think it is rubbish, tough. And MAJOR TYPO FROM CH 1: The Knights Of Ekky Pwatwang Zoom Bom are ACTUALLY The Knights Of Ekky Ekky Ekky Pwatwang Zoom Bom. Sorry – my PC hates me, and repeated words.

Tim was on top of a mountain. Setting fire to things. And the occasional swallow, as it was the migrating season. Almost certainly a European swallow, as African swallows are non-migratory.

            Tim was having fun. Tim was laughing loudly, Tim was burning things, Tim was manically high. His laughter roared through the endless mountain range in the North of England. Then, overhead, a couple of swallows (European) were struggling to carry a coconut on a bamboo line between them. Tim saw, swore, and struck them down. The first two European swallows to carry a coconut between them were dead. 

            Just then, Patsy climbed wearily over the horizon. He was still in his Bermuda shirt and shorts. "Tim – isn't it?" Tim nodded slowly. "Lancelot said you'd be here. Arthur – King of the Britons – is in jail. Oh, I'm Patsy by the way," he gabbled, and thrust his hand forward. Tim shook it, and absent mindedly set fire to a nearby shrubbery. Patsy withdrew his hand rather quickly. "Anyway, Lancelot and Arthur had a run in with the filth, but Lancelot managed to escape. We're forming a legal team for him – and if needs be, a rescue team. Will – will you join us?"

            Tim studied him for a moment. "Let me think…" he said quietly. Without looking away from Patsy, he aimed his staff at random bits of landscape, thus setting them alight. Patsy had gone a slight greenish colour.

            "I'll help you, wee laddie," he said in his thick Scots accent. "So long as it involves me fire staff."

            "Deal," Patsy said shakily. "Follow me."

            With that, they strode off the way Patsy had come.

ARTHUR: 2nd March

God the cell is awful. I prefer my Persian export rug and my French bed set. 

            Keep thinking about Patsy in a longing way. Hopefully, for dignity's sake, just in a Wish You Were Here way. No, if I'm wishing, I'd wish to rewind. Back from this, past the arrest, past the deaths of the brave Camelot gang, past the Bridge of Doom, past Tim, past the Knights of Ekky Ekky Ekky Pwatwang Zoom Bom and their glorious shrubbery garden, past the Quest. Just back the way things were. Before all this beastly Quest gobbledygook. And then I'd avoid meeting God. Wayhey. Just ruling over my fellow Britons, and collecting Knights Of Camelot. That is what I like to do. Not SIT HERE IN THIS STUPID CELL EATING PURTID 'PIZZA'! An Italian delicacy, apparently.

"We are the Knights who say… EKKY EKKY EKKY PWATWANG ZOOM BOM!" the Knights cried.

            From somewhere at the back, a small 'Nih' arose.

            The Leader sighed. "Boris, how many times?! No Nih. Just the Ekky bit. Now let us try again. We are the Knights who say…?"

            Boris looked angry, then said dutifully, "Ekky ekky ekky pwatwang zoom bom." Whilst the Leader turned away, he muttered, "Nih." He slumped down on the grass and began thinking, which was excessively difficult for him. _* Why did we change our name? Was it just to annoy King Arthur after his return of the Shrubbery Quest? *_

"The Knights Formerly Known As Nih?" a voice rang out. A Scottish voice. 

            The Leader looked doubtful. "Ye-e-e-e-es…"

            "I am… Tim. And this is Patsy." Patsy waved and said, "Yo." Tim continued, "We were wondering – King Arthur of the Britons has landed himself in jail. Would you join us in our quest to settle his court case?"

            "If he gets a fine he pays for it his bloody self," the Leader said snootily. 

            "Deal. So… come! Join us in our mission to bring the Monarchy back to power!" Tim strode off, and the Leader cried, "Ekke-e-e-e-e-e-e-e!" and the Knights of Ekky followed him, Patsy bringing up the rear.

Well… waddya think? Review please… pleeease… pleeeeease… merci beaucoup. 


	3. Court Case Crisis

Disclaimer: I didn't create The Holy Grail or Monty Python (I wish… those guys are geniuses.) 

**THE HOLY GRAIL: WAS IT WORTH IT? PART 3**

Note: Thank you to my 2 reviewers, Audrey Miercoles and Sheep the Adventurer. Love you guys!! Sheepy: Your secret is safe… for now.

ARTHUR: 4th March

Still in cell. Word on underground grapevine – Patsy organizing a team of legal people to get self out. Tim, Knights Formerly Known As Nih – all of them are helping. I feel so happy. I'm finally going to be free-e-e-e! And back to Camelot, even though it is a silly place. Shame Kittikins got squashed when Bernie was dancing. 

            They are preparing my defense – I was trying to get the Holy Grail by force because – and here's the truly genius part – I'm very proud of Patsy for coming up with this – because I am David Dickinson's son. Patsy (who seems v. in touch with modern world since holiday) informs me that this Dickinson is a 'presenter' on a 'TV show' – images shown to the viewer via a box. This show is an antiques show and the defense is I was ON 'Bargain Hunt' at the time. This is a truly great idea to be coming from Patsy, but I'm not sure it will work.

Patsy surveyed the room in a superior manor. They – the Knights, Tim and himself – were acting out the court case as if it were real. Tim was to be Arthur's lawyer, without any legal training (however, he did have a fire staff…), Boris was 'Arthur', and Patsy was playing the judge. The Knights of Ekky were playing the jury.

            The only person missing was Lancelot.

            Patsy had heard via carrier pigeon that he was in hiding, and would turn up for that rehearsal. However, Lancelot didn't mention where he was in case the mail was intercepted, but he said it was 10 minutes from Camelot. This would mean it would take him three days to get to the rehearsal, which was down the road from the Police station. 

            Just when the Camelot Rescue Arthur Party* (chosen by Tim and seconded by his fire staff) were about to give up, Lancelot burst in, wet and cold. And dripping. He also smelled slightly.

            "You deign to join us," Tim said wryly. Lancelot gave him an evil look, and sat down next to Boris, who pinched his nostrils and backed away slightly. "Right, let's get started," Tim said.

            "All rise, court is now in session. We begin by –" Patsy was reading out from a legal book ("How To Get Away With Anything – Part 2, Rehearsing The Case" by Ira Snitcha, £10.99 from all good bookshops!) and was struggling with the longer words. "By – by," he stammered, "Dis – disfett – disfetting?" he looked puzzled. 

            "It's DISSECTING you fool!" roared Tim, as he set fire to the cardboard box Patsy was sitting on. "Shall we continue?" he said as sweetly as he could, whilst Patsy rubbed his sore backside.

            "We will begin by dissecting the evidence…"

Three days later, on March 7th, the Arthur vs. The Filth case had begun. Arthur looked pale and shaky as he stepped into the courtroom, almost knowing his fate. Patsy looked confident – if he lost, Patsy received Camelot, and if he won, well that's always nice. Greed burned in Patsy's eyes… what if… what if he lost? On purpose? Surely no one would know… he could just 'lose' his notes. Camelot… a stately castle, and 60 acres of English countryside, could all be his by one simple word… GUILTY.

            Patsy got out his notes and began to rewrite them…

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*I know what Camelot Rescue Arthur Party stands for!!!


	4. Living The Dream

_Disclaimer: I did not invent the Holy Grail or Monty Python (I wish…)_

THE HOLY GRAIL: WAS IT ALL WORTH IT? PART 4 

**Note: thank you to my 2 reviewers – Audrey Miercoles and Sheep the Adventurer – love you guys!!!**

**If you don't know the plot to the film, you shouldn't be reading this. OK?**

"All rise for the honourable Judge Booth…"

            The court case had begun. Tim delivered an excellent performance as a lawyer, having no legal training… however; he was aided slightly by his fire staff, which apparently was very persuasive. He challenged the prosecution to its limit, and intimidated several people with his strong Scottish accent. Patsy looked very smug sitting next to Arthur, with Lancelot as their witness. Lancelot broke down in tears (Patsy's idea – get the sympathy vote!) and had to 'calm down' before proceeding. The jury looked adamant at their decision as they walked out of the room. Patsy then pretended to choke on some water, and whilst that was going on, Tim followed the jury through to the room. After several minutes, some loud voices arose from the jury room, followed by a bang and some silence. This continued for twenty minutes or so, and then the jury filed back in.

            "Your honour, we find the defendant, King Arthur of the Britons, GUILTY of attempting to steal the sacred Holy Grail."

            "In that case, I, by the British legal system, sentence you to five years in jail and a five hundred pound fine."

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"For… HE'S a banged up good fellow, for HE'S a banged up good fellow, for HE'S a banged up good fellow, which no one can deny!"

            Patsy, Tim and Boris were happy – more than happy – ecstatic – elated, no words could describe. Arthur had left Camelot in their care for the next five years. They had it all to themselves – and effectively ruled Briton now. You see, Patsy had actually written a note to Tim saying, "My darling Tim, we can have our freedom – if you intimidate the jury but deliver an excellent case, then, he will be guilty and Camelot is ours for the taking. Patsy."

Thus, the Knights of Ekky Ekky Ekky Pwatwang Zoom Bom and the Knights of the Round Table had combined to create The Knights of the Ekky Ekky Ekky Table. 

            The three traitors had got drunk on bottles of medieval ale. Piles of sick littered the floor and bottles rolled around in it. All night and through the next day, they nursed their hangovers before deciding to return to Camelot.

            Progress was slow – Patsy had given his only coconuts to Arthur ("Wasted on the man – how can he use them in the nick?") and no one had a horse, despite all being Knights. After a week they had reached Camelot.

            When all of the were listening, Patsy and Tim climbed onto a big rock and addressed the Knights.

            "Knights of The Ekky Ekky Ekky Table," Tim began. "Patsy and I are the guardians of Camelot – and we say it is for Patsy, Boris and I only."

            The Knights were indignant at this announcement, but a small speech from Tim's fire staff soon sorted them out.

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Four months after their 'victory', Tim, Patsy, and Boris had settled down in Camelot. Swallows, mainly European, frequented Camelot and Tim had an excellent talent for flame grilled swallow burgers. This was their main income – McDonalds gave them fifty pounds per order and sold them off as cheeseburgers. They lived peacefully, just running round, jumping on the beds, and generally doing what they wanted.

            One day, Tim decided to go looking for the Holy Grail again. He spoke to Patsy about it.

            "No! You can't! It's under close surveillance now! You'll be arrested! No more Swallow Burgers!"

            "Ah don't care anymore! I'll do what ah want!"

            "But Tim! Please – for Boris and I – stay. Don't dig up this business again."

            "Well…"

**REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW THANK YOU**


	5. Getting A Tattoo

Disclaimer: I did not invent the Holy Grail or Monty Python 

THE HOLY GRAIL: WAS IT WORTH IT? PART 5 

**This is me going Holy Grail mad. I know no body except my friends have reviewed it so far so if you are reading it for the first time, REVIEW IT! It's not just here to look pretty, y'know. I'd even like a flame. Or something. Anything. I've put hours and hours into this… *sob* **

**And I do apologize for the weird formatting. The thing is, when I typed chapter 4 I was in a rush (so it was c* anyway) and I was on a different computer. However, my PC is wired up wrong, so it's an American keyboard ditto spellings. So I can't access some functions… sob sob sob. **

**I WILL NOT CONTINUE THIS UNLESS PPL REVIEW IT! Honestly! I need to know what you all think!!!!**

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_We last left Arthur in his courtroom, having just heard that he was guilty. _

            "No! I'm innocent! I'm the King of the Britons! I decide who goes to jail!"

            "Not on my time," PC Denwood-Jones muttered as he dragged the former King to his cell. They went out of the courtroom, down the steps, and he threw Arthur into his cell again. 

            "Five years, sonny. Ooh, that's a long time, y'know. Is there any… last requests?" PC Denwood-Jones smirked evilly.

            "Yes," said Arthur stoutly. "I'd like a Tattooist sent here right now. To tattoo me. Here in my cell." Here he stopped and looked defiantly at the officer.

            He looked surprised at Arthur's request – especially as he was in full Armour. Still, he shuffled off and within a couple of hours returned with 'Jim the Tattooist' from down the road. "What would you like done, me laddie?" he said.

            "Two swallows – European – carrying a coconut between them. On a bamboo line."

            "Ah yes – your friend wanted one t'other week. Sauntered off to the Caribbean shop across the road, then the tanning studio… what?"

            Arthur had turned a deadly shade of green. Then his madness got the better of him. Patsy hadn't been on holiday at all! The flying cow didn't kill him, of course Arthur knew that – he had just escaped, lived in London for a while, and then framed Arthur to suit his needs! Camelot! With Tim! And that dim Knight they'd picked up along the way, Boris, was it? Well, it didn't matter. Patsy had betrayed him that was what mattered! His faithful servant, Patsy… how could he? How could he throw away years of service to Arthur, the King, and then lose his court case? Arthur didn't even have enough to pay the fine.

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**ARTHUR: 7th March**

Patsy betrayed me. Only found out because I ordered a Tattooist to my cell, and it turns out Patsy had got his tattoo from him, gone to a 'tanning studio' then the Caribbean shop. He had escaped the Frenchmen's cow and ran away. Was I that bad a master to him? I never beat him; he was (almost) always fed… 

            Him and Tim had set me up in court. Tim was excellent to face value – but those bangs and raised voices from the jury room I realize now was the jury being intimidated by him. Must have been when Patsy had that choking fit. 

            Oh dear Patsy. How could you? I was kind, generous, and you were promised Camelot if something happened to me if I had no son. Also said he could share it with Tim if he had no kin of his own. I did all that – to be betrayed. I was even bout to get the same tattoo as him, which would bind us forever.

            And yet, however much he was a scheming son of a b*, I do miss him terribly. He always cheered me up with tales of his childhood and the most recent witch-burnings. He was like a newsreader – slow, dependable and always there for me, which is unlike a newsreader. 

            Until now. 

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For the next four months, up until where we left Patsy and Tim last, Arthur mourned the loss of his closest servant. He drifted around his cell day after day, occasionally (especially at night) bursting into tears. He sank into a heavy depression when Tim's Swallow Burgers (aka MacDonald's quarter-pounders) were served up in the prison canteen. 

            No one came to visit him. Lancelot had just disappeared; most likely back to his mother's in Dorset. The Knights Re-Known As Ekky Ekky Ekky Pwatwang Zoom Bom wanted nothing to do with him – told in a very curt letter sent 10 days after the verdict. It read: 'you are a disgrace to the monarchy. Your servants and companions are a very poor choice. You smell of elderberries, and you look like an old rotting potato. We never want to see you or hear that you are in power again. _NIH NIH NIH NIH NIH!_' Obviously the Frenchmen helped them with the letter. 

            But Arthur, after the four months, was not sorry. Oh, no, he was already plotting his revenge. It would be such a sweet revenge, it would give them toothache…


	6. Those Wonderful Eyes

**A huge, big, cuddly thanx to the following lovely people:**

**Cody, Aries, a knight of nih (great name!!), and dear Audrey Miercoles.**

**However, because not many of you have reviewed, I am aiming for at least 7 reviews for each chapter! So review! Please! Go on… *sniff**

**PS Has anyone ever watched that news program from early 90s called The Day Today? I am thinking of doing a fanfic of it. If no one has heard of it I won't bother. OK?**

THE HOLY GRAIL: WAS IT WORTH IT? PART 6 

In this chapter we meet some surprise guests…

Disclaimer: King Arthur and his cool gang are not mine… how I wish they were.

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Tim, Boris and the ever-deceiving Patsy stood at the door of their new home – Camelot.

            "You first, Tim," Patsy said.

            "Oh, no, you first. Or Boris."

            This continued for a while. None of them wanted to go into Camelot.

            It was Patsy who voiced the general feeling: "It doesn't feel right. We put Arthur in jail when he almost certainly would have got off, and we ruined his future. I… feel so guilty."

            The mood had taken a sombre turn. They all sat down slowly and thought for a while. Boris was the first to recover from the thought-bog. He got up and went inside, and presently was heard to make some scrambled eggs. After a while, Tim muttered, "Oh, sod it," and followed. 

            Patsy was left now. He stayed there for a good few hours, and only went into the castle after hearing Tim open a bottle of beer.

Two days later, at about teatime, there was an ominous knock at the castle door. And the sound of a violin string breaking. 

            Boris lurched to the door, holding a frying pan and wearing a pinny with pink hearts yes, this will develop…! He opened the door and reeled back with shock. He fainted dead away, whilst Tim came up behind him. He gasped.

            In front of them was a minstrel. Wearing a fuchsia suit. And a pink ribbon. And his (somewhat useless) broken violin had Cliff Richard stickers all over. I believe the Sir Cliff is indeed that old.

            "Hi," he grinned. "I'm Phoebe," he said, after receiving no response. Tim stepped forward slowly and punched him in the stomach. Phoebe doubled up, and Tim said sheepishly, "Sorry. Thought you were a ghost. I mean, they… they… they ate you, right? In the winter after Sir Galahad was tempted, and Sir Robin bravely fled from the three headed knight, and  Sir Lancelot massacred a whole wedding, well, almost did." 

            "Err, no. That was the narrator being silly. Oh he is _so_ silly. I mean, when we first –"

            "NO NO NO NO NO!" Patsy yelled just in time. He has crept up behind during Tim's speech and was staring aghast. "Ugh. I mean, welcome. What be your business?"

            "Shelter for a few months. The Knights of Nih are after me – and Roger the Shrubber," he said gloomily. 

             "OK, come on in… sorry it's a bit of a mess," Patsy said, leading the way. "We weren't expecting guests, especially none of your… um, caliber…" he added hastily. Although… you had to admit, there was a certain attractiveness in the pink suit. It brought out the colour in his eyes. Green. Green as grass, they were. Those wonderful eyes.

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Next chapter: Patsy falls in love, Arthur plots his revenge (if you have any ideas let me know!) and Tim meets Sir Robin, with disastrous results.

Go with peace and Monty Python-esque laughter, Cecil xxx 


	7. Final Freedom, Fire and Funerals

**Disclaimer: yada yada I did not create it –sob-.**

**Big thanks to all my reviewers! I love you all in a non-lesbian way.**

**So, on with…**

**THE HOLY GRAIL: WAS IT WORTH IT? PART 7**

In this chapter, we meet some more surprise guests. I know I keep bringing people back from the dead, but I need them. They are cool.

On with the story.

This is a lovely loooong ch, longer than my usual 500-800 words, to commemorate THE LAST ONE, as I want to start something new.

**ARTHUR: 1st March, one year later**

Have survived one whole year (almost) in prison. I am still plotting my revenge. In my pocket I have the last remaining Holy Hand Grenade, bought off Bruiser in Wing C. I had to sell my hair, so now I am bald. I would have sold my crown, but the guards took it off me. Right now they are re-enacting their present Queen's coronation with silly voices. Bruiser also threw in a copy of the Holy Grenade Manuel for free. "You need to know 'ow to bleedin' use it," he told me.

            So, here goes. Wish me luck.

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Arthur consulted the manual.

            "Thou shalt remove thy pin, hold the Grenade aloft and thou shalt yell: 'Die, thou filthy buggers!' for this was an updated version in a loud, clear tone, count to three and lobbeth thy grenade into the air and blow the bastards to pieces. Just count to three: not four, or two unless thou proceedeth to three. Three is the number thou shalt count. Five is right out. Dammit, get the message, thee of little brain."

            Arthur waited until tea in the mess hall and at the end, asked the guards if he could make an announcement.

            "Fellow prisoners," he cried. "I have deemed myself too good for this world. Better than this smelly, foul hellhole I am forced to stay in. I am beautiful, no matter what they say. I feel like a natural woman, in the sense that I have determination to fight for my rights. I've got the power – well, I did – to let live and let die." Arthur was unaware that he was incorporating song titles into his speech, and he ignored the sniggers. "So without further ado – DIE, THOU FILTHY BUGGERS! ONE – TWO – FIVE! I MEAN, THREE!"

            With this, he threw it at his least favourite guard near the door and hid under a table. When all was silent, he crept out into the fresh spring night.

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"Phoebe, I want to tell you something."

            Patsy and Phoebe were in the dining room, eating poppadoms with a lean meat curry. Phoebe wiped his mouth and enquired: "Yes, Patsy? Do you want some ketchup?"

            "No, thanks. I – I want you to know that. That. That I am in love with you."

            Phoebe smiled, laid a hand on Patsy's cheek and said, "I know. I feel the same."

            "Oh, Phoebe," Patsy sighed. He smiled too, leaned over and their lips brushed briefly…

            Patsy woke with a start. Yes, groan at your will Those eyes… they glittered, sparkled, gleamed like emeralds. He wanted Phoebe – oh, he _must _have Phoebe. He was his soul mate, his The One, his Mr Right. _I'll do whatever it takes_, he thought as he drifted to sleep.

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Tim heard a knocking at the door. Tim was angry – he HATED being interrupted. He was making a fresh batch of swallow burgers (flame grilled to perfection) and he didn't want to be disturbed. However, the knock was quite timid, so maybe he could use some extra meat.

            "Ye-e-es?" he asked as he creaked the door open. It was Sir Robin.

            "Um… I… want – well, if it's not too much trouble, I'd –"

            "SPIT IT OUT LADDIE! I GOT BURGERS TO GR-R-RILL!"

            "I'd like to see – well, speak to – King Arthur, if he's in."

            "Aren't you supposed to be dead?" Tim asked, curling his lip.

            "I've been – living with Phoebe – the minstrel boy for – for ages, really. And I wanted King Arthur's advice on well… cough you know… our relationship. I mean, Phoebe wants to take it further, but I don't know and –"

            "SILENCE! So… you have competition then. Patsy was rather taken with him too." Tim grinned mockingly. Robin's face crumpled as the news sunk in. Suddenly, he grabbed Tim's fire staff off of him and ran through the castle, yelling Patsy's name.

            "NO ONE, LADDIE, MESSES WITH ME STAFF!" yelled Tim as he hared after him.

When Tim arrived in the correct room, Patsy had been fried. Phoebe had been fried. Boris was intact, however, but his pink pinny with the hearts was not. He was curled up in a corner, sobbing. Tim located his staff, on top of the mangled corpses, and looked around the castle for Robin while Boris watched Mission: Impossible downstairs with the music floating through the castle. Tim pranced around the castle like a madman, looking round every corner with a manic glee, and eventually he set the bathtub alight, which unfortunately was where he kept his swallows (European and 2 African) for roasting.

            "He's buggered off," he growled. "Well, it's war, and this time… It's personal. But then again," he looked at the camera, "it always is…" he grinned, and his gold tooth sparkled as the music came to a close.

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So Patsy and Phoebe were dead.

            "Two of the bravest loyal servants ever are dead. But not forgotten," Tim said at their funeral, attended by him, himself and he. King Arthur didn't know anything about it and none if the other knights could be bothered. Boris couldn't make it: "I have to take time out to find myself," he had said shakily.

            So Tim, with his staff, put the two bodies on top of a pile of wood and set them alight. "MWAH HA HA HA HA HAA!" he cried, then remembering where he was, rapidly changed it to mournful sobbing. Then his reflexes got the better of him and he changed back to manic laughter. Then sobbing.

            "TIM! TIM!" a voice rang o'er the land. It was Arthur. "TIM, you bloody bastard! You worthless, son of a –"

            Pzrrrrr! Tim's staff whipped into action and thus Arthur was burnt to a crisp. Tim once again tried to sob. Finally he gave up and left the bodies to burn. This batch of swallow burgers would have an interesting allure to them.

Sorry for it to end so grossly/badly/sadly/rubbishy but it is a bit long winded, doncha think? Anyway, review please even if it is the last one. Byee!


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